


Dealer's Choice

by CallToMuster



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Child Murder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Protective Anakin Skywalker, Psychological Torture, Seriously this is dark, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallToMuster/pseuds/CallToMuster
Summary: The children are paraded out in front of him unceremoniously, and Obi-Wan slumps in his restraints.Children.Force-damnedchildren.“Well, General Kenobi,” his captor says suddenly, smiling, and Obi-Wan waits with bated breath to hear what follows. “You pick who dies.”{Written for Whumptober 2020. Day 2: "Pick Who Dies"}
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948819
Comments: 25
Kudos: 116





	Dealer's Choice

**Author's Note:**

> This one is seriously dark, guys. See trigger warning(s) in the end notes.

The children are paraded out in front of him unceremoniously, and Obi-Wan slumps in his restraints. _Children_. Force-damned _children_. 

There are five of them: a Wookiee, a Nautolan, a Human, and two Twi’leks -- twins, by the looks of them. The Nautolan seems to be the oldest, Obi-Wan would place him at around seven standard. The youngest, the Twi’lek twins, can’t be more than three or four. They are all chained together. The Human boy is crying a little; his sniffles echo around the stone room. The Twi’lek twins are holding hands and huddling as close together as they can, pale beneath their blue skin. 

“Well, General Kenobi,” his captor says suddenly, smiling, and Obi-Wan waits with bated breath to hear what follows. “You pick who dies.” 

He feels like the floor has fallen out from under him. “Excuse me?”

His captor -- a Devaronian man with scarred horns -- doesn’t lose his smile. “Oh, you heard me perfectly well the first time, but I’ll indulge you: _you pick the one who dies._ ”

There is only one possible answer. “I pick you.”

This makes his captor laugh, a harsh sound. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Negotiator. C’mon, pick who dies.”

“What do you want?” Obi-Wan croaks. 

“I want the location of the refugee camp in the Kessel sector,” his captor replies easily, stroking the lekku of one of the Twi’lek twins. “But I know you won’t give that to me, not yet. I don’t think you understand how serious I am about this. I want to show you. So, who dies?”

Obi-Wan says nothing, mind racing. The refugee camp in the Kessel sector is full of orphaned children who lost their parents to Separatist occupation. Its location is a closely guarded secret for good reason: the Separatist leaders, reprehensible as they are, are somewhat obsessed with finding the refugees and killing them. Something about destroying the future generation of the Republic. Twice now the children have been forced to flee in the dead of night as Separatist forces flew right overhead. Obi-Wan has visited them himself; it was a thoroughly demoralizing experience. The camp reminded him of Melida/Daan in ways he did not care to think about: starving, orphaned children in the middle of a war who are ruling themselves and trying to survive together. The youngest child there is no more than a newborn. The oldest is perhaps eleven. 

The captor, having grown bored during Obi-Wan’s long pause, is talking again. 

“Will it be one of these two?” The Devaronian places his two meaty palms on the tiny heads of the twins. “With their adorable chubby cheeks?”

Obi-Wan just glares. 

“Or perhaps it’ll be this furry fellow,” he says, rubbing the back of the Wookiee. The little boy lets out a cry at his touch. 

“No?” his captor says, when Obi-Wan doesn’t react. “Maybe the Nautolan then. After all, I’m guessing you won’t pick the little Human -- species stick together, or so they say.”

Obi-Wan stares straight ahead, looking at a spot on the wall well above the children. The Devaronian grabs his chin and jerks it down until he has no choice but to see their delicate, scared faces. 

“Choose, Kenobi.”

“No,” he chokes out, straining against his restraints. The Force-suppression collar feels heavy around his neck. 

“Fine, then,” his captor shrugs. “ _I’ll_ choose.”

Two shots ring out, and the Nautolan and the Wookiee both fall to the ground, blaster holes in their foreheads. The three other children scream and try to run away, but the chain connecting them all has been fastened securely to the ground. As it stands, they’re so closely bound together that when the Nautolan and the Wookiee collapsed it almost brought down the whole group. 

“You kriffing bastard,” Obi-Wan snarls, raising his head to the Devaronian. “You said _one_.”

His captor looks unconcerned. “I said _you_ pick the one who dies. When you didn’t pick anyone, I had to do it myself, and I chose two.”

 _I’m going to kill you_ , Obi-Wan wants to say, but he is a Jedi. Instead, he settles for, “You’re going to pay for that.”

“Maybe one day,” the man replies, and Obi-Wan wants nothing more than to wipe that smug, nonchalant smirk off his face. “But not anytime soon.”

Obi-Wan redirects his attention to the children. The twin sisters are hugging each other and sitting on the ground, chests heaving as they sob. The boy’s face is streaked with tears, and he is wailing. It is a cacophony, but the wince on Obi-Wan’s face comes not from the noise but from what it represents.

“So, where is the Kessel refugee camp?” 

How many people, how many _children_ would die if Obi-Wan gave up that information? Many thousands, many more than the three lives in front of him. Obi-Wan looks away. He does not want to have to see the childrens’ faces as he gives this next answer.

“I can’t tell you.”

The Devaronian growls. “You would rather me kill these children than give me some coordinates?”

“I would rather you lay down that blaster and let us all free!” Obi-Wan says, a hysterical laugh bubbling in his throat. “Or keep me, keep me and let the children go. Please.”

Unsurprisingly, their captor is not moved. “Pick who’s next.”

“No!” Obi-Wan shouts, voice breaking. His volume gets the children to stop their crying and look up at him, slightly stunned. 

“Then I guess I will,” the Devaronian says, and without pause raises the blaster to the Human boy’s head and fires. 

Obi-Wan closes his eyes immediately, but the _thud_ reaches his ears all the same. The Twi’lek twins scream and hold each other closer. 

A few tears run down Obi-Wan’s cheeks. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You know exactly what will make me stop and you refuse to do it,” the Devaronian man says, getting close to Obi-Wan’s face. “Who’s the real killer here?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, swallowing thickly. He’s been tortured before, many times. This is so, so much worse. Those were mere trials of the flesh, this is torture of the _spirit_. 

“Now, I’m going to ask again,” the captor purrs into Obi-Wan’s ear. “ _Where is the refugee camp?_ ”

Obi-Wan does not say anything right away. He can’t stop staring at the two little sisters in front of him. How long has he been in this cell? A day or two. Surely Anakin or someone must be on their way. How long has it been since the first two children were murdered? Only a few minutes. It feels like ages. 

A hard, stinging slap across the face breaks him out of his thoughts. “Where is it?!”

Obi-Wan’s cheek twitches slightly. “I…”

He swallows. The Devaronian looks slightly excited. “Yes?”

“I, I can’t tell you.” Obi-Wan’s voice is thick, hoarse. He raises his head and desperately begs, “Please, let them go! Let them go and you can have me, just please let them go!”

“I don’t _want_ you!” the Devaronian shouts, angry now. “Do you think I give a kark about you? Some bigshot Republic general? No! I couldn’t care less about you or the stupid war you’re fighting! Those Kessel refugees are liars, they’re murderers who killed everyone in my family! I am going to end them all, but all I need are the coordinates!”

That… changes things. Obi-Wan had been operating under the impression that this was a politically motivated attack, not a personal one. Perhaps he can work with this.

“What happened to your family?” he asks, careful to keep his tone as even and soft as possible.

“Nice try,” the Devaronian snorts. “You’re not going to play your little tricks on me.”

“Maybe we can work something out,” Obi-Wan forges ahead, desperate.

“How about you and I make a deal?” the man muses. Obi-Wan leans forward as much as he can. “You tell me who dies, and I promise I’ll let the other one free.” 

“...I don’t believe you,” Obi-Wan says, stalling.

“Oh, I’ll do it. You have my word. But in case that doesn’t mean anything to you, I’ll make you another promise as well: if you don’t pick one of them, I’ll kill them both.”

Obi-Wan cannot say anything. 

“You know I’d do it,” the Devaronian says, and he is right.

Obi-Wan's mind is racing, desperately trying to think of a way out of this. “But then you wouldn’t have anything to hold over my head.” 

His captor shrugs. “We’re right by an intergalactic school. How else do you think we got such diversity? It wouldn’t be too hard to grab a few more kids.”

Obi-Wan shudders and feels his neck go a little limp. This is too much, all too much. He can’t think clearly. 

“Kenobi? I’m waiting…”

“Damn you,” Obi-Wan curses. Jedi do not hate, but in that moment he has never hated a being more.

“You have ten seconds to choose. Ten… Nine… Eight…”

Obi-Wan’s breathing speeds up. He has no idea what to do.

“Seven… Six… Five…”

If he picks one, there’s a chance the other could live. If he doesn’t they are both surely dead.

“Four… Three… Two…”

“The left one!” Obi-Wan blurts out, and it is at random, because if he _actually_ chooses he thinks he would have to kill himself. 

The Devaronian pauses before he gets to the final number. “An intriguing choice, Kenobi.”

He shoots the little Twi’lek in question. She dies instantly but for half a second Obi-Wan thinks she still lives because she does not fall immediately. But it is because she’s still being held by her sister. Her sister, who is screaming louder than he’s ever heard a child scream. 

The Devaronian reaches down and unchains the remaining girl. She doesn’t move. Maybe she doesn’t understand. Maybe she just doesn’t want to leave her sister.

“Run!” Their captor’s shout echoes throughout the room. The girl just looks up at him and cowers in fear. She probably doesn’t speak Basic. 

“ _Little one_ ,” Obi-Wan says in Ryl, voice shaking. “ _You have to run away from here. Far away._ ”

“Numa!” the little girl cries in the same language. _Sister_. Oh, dear Force.

“ _You need to leave_ ,” Obi-Wan repeats. “ _This place is not safe for you_.”

The little girl shakes her head quickly, lekku flying behind her. 

“ _Run!_ ” Obi-Wan shouts. He feels bad about scaring her, but it’s for her own good. The girl jolts and stands up. To Obi-Wan’s horror, she doesn’t move, not right away. She’s still staring at her twin sister, lying in a heap on the ground. 

“ _Little one_ …” Obi-Wan is getting nervous now. “ _Leave, please_.”

“Numa!” she cries again, and shakes her head. Obi-Wan is breathing quickly now, shaking a little. 

“ _You have to get away from here, ple--_ ”

 _Pew!_ The little girl slumps over onto the body of her sister, and for half a second Obi-Wan thinks it’s in grief. Then the sound registers, and he turns his head to see the Devaronian putting away his blaster. 

Obi-Wan feels like he’s underwater. The world is warping around him, spinning and dipping and blurring. The Devaronian says something, but Obi-Wan doesn’t hear him. Not long after that, Obi-Wan is left alone, just him and the five tiny corpses on the floor. He can barely see them through the veil of tears. He just sits there, slumped in his chair, for a long while.

That is how Anakin finds him, hours later. He rushes into the room, lightsaber blazing, but stops immediately as his eyes find the children. 

“Force,” he breathes, and Obi-Wan cannot bring himself to raise his head. 

Then: “Obi-Wan?” Anakin kneels down in front of Obi-Wan, ducking to make himself lower so he can try and meet Obi-Wan’s gaze.

Obi-Wan is watching all this happen from a distance, like he is not inside his own body. It does not occur to him to say something in response to his former Padawan. Everything is numb.

“Master, say something. Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan cannot give a response. No, he doesn’t think he is alright. 

Anakin has moved on to untying the rope around his hands and gingerly bringing his arms to rest on his lap, wary of the sore and long-unused muscles. It has been a few hours since his last dose of Force-suppressant, and it is only just now starting to return to him in a slow wave. He can just barely feel Anakin use the Force to scan his body.

Anakin frowns. “You’re not in the best condition but I don’t think there’s anything that needs immediate attention. Unless you want to tell me something?”

Obi-Wan says nothing. How can he explain that he _has_ been hurt, but it’s so far inside that no medicine will reach?

His former Padawan watches him for a moment, then carefully drapes Obi-Wan’s arm over his shoulder. On the count of three, he raises and hauls Obi-Wan up with him. It takes a second before Obi-Wan’s body remembers to support its own weight. Anakin begins moving towards the door, but Obi-Wan freezes halfway there.

“Anakin,” he whispers, and his voice breaks painfully. 

“Yeah?” Anakin replies in an equally hushed tone. He can’t look up at Obi-Wan very easily, not with how they’re positioned together, but Obi-Wan can tell he has the man’s full attention.

“The children,” Obi-Wan croaks. His vision blurs, and for a second he wonders if he’s going blind before he realizes he’s crying. Strangely, he feels no shame at this. He feels nothing at all, like someone has reached inside him and scraped away until he is achingly hollow. The tears drip down his cheeks and into his beard. Obi-Wan blinks a few times to clear his eyes and regrets it immediately when it means his vision can focus once more on the dead children lying mere feet away from them. He shuts his eyes, then opens them again just as quickly. He deserves to see this sight; it is his fault, after all.

Then Obi-Wan’s body is shifted, and he is turned around so all he sees is a blank wall. Anakin’s arms are tight around him, and Obi-Wan realizes this is a carefully positioned hug. 

“I know,” Anakin murmurs, holding him tight. “I’m sorry.”

A choked sob escapes Obi-Wan before he can snatch it back, and before he knows it, he is crying much harder. He shakes and he shakes and Anakin is there through it all. 

_It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay_ is what Anakin is saying. _It’s not, it’s not, it’s not_ is what Obi-Wan can only think in response. 

They stand there for a long time, as one holds the other steady as he falls utterly apart.

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: mass child death. 
> 
> Well, I originally ended this right after the Devaronian shoots the last little girl and leaves Obi-Wan alone with the corpses, but I realized I needed Anakin to come in and give at least a little comfort. If only for my sake.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Unless I somehow write something tonight, I don't have anything for Whumptober tomorrow, but I will have something for the two days after that. See you then!
> 
> {Come talk with me on my [Tumblr](https://calltomuster.tumblr.com)!}


End file.
